


as often as miracles

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Comfort Sex, Enemies, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sidney Crosby's ass, Sloppy Makeouts, Team Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia loses to Finland, and Sidney Crosby shows up on Ovechkin's doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as often as miracles

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched the Russia/Finland game and I said to myself, "self, what do you need to cheer yourself up right now?" and I answered myself "porn." And I thought long and hard about what sort of porn I'd like to write, and I decided that my first order of business should be writing the Ovi/Sid fic I've always wanted and have never seen or done myself for a whole bunch of bullshit reasons. But, seeing as I am the (last?) diehard Ovi/Sid shipper ([pictorial evidence](http://marina.dreamwidth.org/1263343.html)), this seemed like a good time to say fuck it all and just write what I want. 
> 
> This story was written in the brief interval between Russia losing and Canada almost losing, so the latter event isn't really accounted for. Also this fic is unbeta'd.

When Sasha opens the door at 11pm, there’s Sidney Crosby standing out in the hallway of the Russian dormitory. Sidney Crosby who shoves him, not particularly hard, back into the room, walks in after him and locks the door. 

“What… you…” for the first time in years, the English just isn’t there when Sasha reaches for it. 

“Shut up, do you wanna do this or not?” Crosby says, pushing Sasha up against a wall and dropping down to his knees. Jesus Christ what the fuck?

“Hey! What!” Sasha manages, before Crosby starts untying the laces of Sasha’s favorite sweatpants. 

Crosby looks up at him. “We had a deal, at the all-star game two years ago. You said you’d suck my dick if Russia beat Canada, and I said I’d do the same to you if it was the opposite. So,” Crosby loosens the waistband enough and Sasha’s pants fall to his ankles, leaving him in his boxers. 

“Whoa, what?” Sasha says, finally outraged enough for his brain to come back online. He grabs Crosby by the shoulders and hoists him up until they’re staring at each other across their natural, god-given height difference. 

“You were very drunk at the time,” Crosby says, rolling his eyes, but Sasha can see it’s just a cover up tactic. “I was… also pretty drunk. Trust me, we said it.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Sasha says, because obviously he could have said a whole bunch of stupid shit while drunk at the all-star weekend, that’s like, one of the NHL’s most time honored traditions. “I mean you didn’t beat us. Finland beat us.” Fuck Crosby, seriously. Fuck him sideways. 

Crosby looks a little startled. “No, yeah, obviously. But you know, we’re going to be ranked higher anyway so it’s like--”

Sasha shoves Crosby so hard he slams into the bathroom door, which is thankfully closed. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Crosby says, suddenly turning utterly serious. “I just…” he looks like he’s genuinely pleading. “Can I just give you a blowjob?”

Out of all the possible responses that jump into Sasha’s head his mouth chooses to go with “Why?”

Crosby leans his head against the bathroom door, looking up at Sasha. He licks his lips and takes a long breath. “Because I’ve always wanted to. Because you worked your ass off out there and Finland’s a good team but you guys didn’t deserve to go out like that.” He pauses. “Because tomorrow’s gonna suck ass.”

“That’s…” Sasha says, taking in Crosby, dressed in workout clothes, freshly showered after the game, a stray black curl on his forehead, big red lips slightly parted, a hungry look in his eyes. It’s not like Sasha’s never wanted this, never thought about it, never jerked off wondering what it would be like to fuck Crosby. That ass is legendary. And it’s true, tomorrow’s going to suck, and pretty much every day after that is going to suck, for a while. And Crosby gets that, and Sasha knows him enough to know he’s serious. He wouldn’t joke about this. He wouldn’t be disingenuous. “OK,” Sasha says, finally. “But I don’t want a blowjob.”

Crosby has a moment to give him a confused look before Sasha closes the distance between them and puts his mouth on Crosby’s. It’s warm and open and lush and Sasha grabs his face and Crosby’s arms wrap around his back. Sasha licks into Crosby’s mouth and he makes a sound, like a whimper, hands grabbing and pulling at Sasha’s shirt. 

“Bed?” Sasha says, breathless, pulling away. Crosby nods frantically and tries to pull Sasha further into the room but Sasha’s pants are still around his ankles and he trips when Crosby grabs him and nearly falls on his face. Crosby grabs him and Sasha manages to lean a hand on the wall at the last second and it’s suddenly impossible to ignore how ridiculous this is. He’s fucking Sidney Crosby in his Sochi dorm room after getting kicked out of the Olympics. None of this makes any sense. It’s hilarious and absurd and Sasha laughs as he kicks off his sweats and Crosby looks at him like he’s crazy but also maybe like he wants to tear all his clothes off so Sasha grins and pushes him closer to the bed until Crosby’s knees bend over the mattress.

They fall on top of each other, Sasha landing heavily and Crosby yelping in protest under him; the bed is so narrow they can’t switch positions comfortably. Crosby is still trying to pull Sasha down for a kiss and Sasha really wants to sink back into Crosby’s mouth but their limbs are just not cooperating and god fucking dammit Sasha is not going to be responsible for kneeing Canada’s great Olympics hope in the balls before the semi-finals. 

“Wait,” Sasha says, sitting up and straddling Crosby. Yeah, they’re both definitely hard, which is great, but also annoying because logistics. 

Sasha pulls off Crosby’s long sleeved shirt, tossing it to the floor and revealing Crosby’s broad, nicely muscled chest, with dark red nipples already hard and begging for Sasha’s mouth. But no, no, they have to do this right. 

Sasha gets off the bed, reluctantly and to the sound of Crosby’s “Hey, wait, where are you--” until Sasha pulls off his boxers and leaves them on the floor. Crosby’s a little speechless, apparently, stuck with his mouth open, mid sentence. 

“Need a special invite?” Sasha says and Crosby comes back to himself, pulling off his own pants and boxers and shoving them off the bed. 

“Um, yeah, that’s…” Crosby says, trailing off, eyes roving over Sasha’s body. 

“Yeah…” Sasha agrees, taking in Crosby’s hard stomach and solid, circumcised dick. Crosby slides a hand to his shaft, giving it a few lazy strokes, still shamelessly devouring Sasha with his eyes. Yeah, that’s not gonna do. 

Sasha climbs back on the bed, kisses Crosby, holds his head to keep him still and dives into his warm, plaint mouth. Fuck, he’d never thought kissing Sidney Crosby would be this good. A distant part of him wonders if Crosby’s practiced this with Zhenya, if that’s where his expertise comes from. He’s never heard of Crosby having a relationship outside of his love affair with hockey and sticks and pucks don’t kiss back so Crosby had to have had a more responsive partner to drill this with. 

Crosby’s hands slide over Sasha’s ass, dig into his lower back and Sasha tears himself away from Crosby’s mouth and bends to kiss down his chest, licking over a nipple and nipping at it with his teeth; Crosby moans like Sasha’s jerking him off, throaty and open mouthed, and yeah, Sasha knew, looking at those nipples, Crosby would be sensitive there. 

Sasha sits back and makes a show of spitting in his palm, knocking Crosby’s hands away from his dick and replacing them with his own. Crosby’s smaller than him, and Crosby’s hands are smaller, and when Sasha wraps his wet hand around Crosby’s dick Crosby moans so hard he nearly arches off the bed. Sasha smiles and grabs his own dick together with Crosby’s, his grip looser now but so much more satisfying. He groans together with Crosby as their dicks rub against each other, against Sasha’s hand. He rides Crosby’s hips, increasing the friction, and Crosby’s eyes are half-open, his bottom lip huge and red from being bitten, and fuck, Sasha feels like he could come from just a few more minutes of this. 

“You know,” Crosby says, breathless and murmured, “I love that missing tooth.”

Sasha grins - he doesn’t even know if Crosby really knows what he’s saying but it’s fucking hot to see him try and speak when he’s like this. 

“So fucking hot. Like you don’t even give a fuck,” Crosby says, pushing his hips up to force Sasha’s hand to go faster. 

“Yeah?” Sasha says, licking over his teeth. “You know what I love?” He pauses, makes Crosby give him an answer. Crosby finally shakes his head and Sasha says “Your amazing fucking ass.”

Crosby laughs and then groans in protest when Sasha lets go of his dick and climbs off his lap and prods Crosby to turn over. The bed is narrow but Sasha’s got a better balance now, they can totally do this without either of them touching the floor. 

Crosby grumbles and obliges, turning over to lie on his stomach, resting his head on his folded hands. And wow, jesus, his ass in unparallel. His thighs are thick and huge and his buttocks are just perfect, round mounds of muscle and fat. Yeah, this has already been worth it, just getting Crosby still and naked like this, presenting himself for Sasha.

Sasha straddles Crosby again, but this time he sits on his calves instead of his thighs, giving himself better access to Crosby’s best asset. He kisses down Crosby’s lower back, following the curve of his spine, and Crosby hums his pleasure, practically melting into the mattress. Sasha bends lower, planting wet, broad kisses on Crosby’s buttocks, kneading the skin with his hands, and then finally pulling Crosby’s cheeks apart and licking inside, over Crosby’s hole. 

Crosby gasps and arches off the bed and moans when Sasha does it again and fuck, as much as Sasha wants to fuck him licking him out like this is actually even more appealing. He spreads Crosby’s cheeks wider and spits audibly right at his hole and Crosby moans so loud and desperate Sasha’s cock gets harder than it was when he was rubbing it against Crosby’s. He licks in again, putting even more effort into it, pushing his tongue into Crosby and using his lips to massage Crosby’s rim and Crosby shouts out “Fuck, Ovi,” and bucks his hips upward so hard they nearly fall off the bed. 

Sasha pulls back for a moment and then keeps licking, and Crosby lets out desperate, needy, high-pitched sounds and grabs at the sheets so hard Sasha’s pretty sure he’s going to rip them, and grinds into the mattress every time Sasha comes up for breath. Sasha gives him a few more good licks, kissing into Crosby’s ass and licking over his hole until he’s mewling, until Sasha feels like his own dick is about to fall off because being the container for all the blood in Sasha’s body is making it too heavy to stay attached. 

“Did you bring lube?” Sasha says, a little out of breath, sitting up straight while his hands are still parting Crosby’s cheeks. 

Crosby takes a few harsh breaths before answering. “No, I… blowjob was the plan.”

Fuck. Sasha doesn’t have any either and nothing in his bathroom could serve as a substitute. Well then, back to Crosby’s original plan. 

“OK, fine, you win,” Sasha says, sitting back on the edge of the bed, freeing up Crosby’s legs. 

Crosby doesn’t take long to get with the program. He regroups, shuffling back on the bed and making Sasha lie down on his back. Crosby straddles his legs, putting his amazing, gorgeous ass against Sasha’s knees, and though Sasha can no longer see it it’s still pleasing to think that some part of him is still touching that piece of perfection. 

Crosby starts by grabbing the base of Sasha’s cock, which makes Sasha gasp and brace himself because every touch feels like it could be the deciding one right now. God, he shouldn’t be this hard just from eating Crosby out but he is, he so fucking is. 

Crosby kisses his nipples and his belly and the hair at the base of his cock and finally, finally he takes Sasha’s dick into his mouth and swallows and Sasha grabs the sheets and pulls so hard he really does tear them and swears as loud he’s pretty sure the whole floor can hear and closes his eyes because Crosby’s fucking staring at him and he can’t, he just can’t deal with Sidney Crosby giving him that hungry, ferocious look while he has Sasha’s cock in his mouth. 

He manages not to come, which is a pretty huge achievement, and when he’s got his breath back he opens his eyes and looks down and Crosby, motherfucking Sidney Crosby waits until Sasha locks eyes with him and swallows Sasha’s dick all the way, bending his head until his nose bumps against Sasha’s pubic hair and swallows and Sasha comes, writhing, bucking his hips uncontrollably, hands grabbing Crosby’s hair hard enough to hurt for a moment, before Sasha remembers himself and lets go and falls back on the bed, exhausted and breathless. 

Crosby sits back on his heels and smiles at him, a little smugly, and Sasha realizes Crosby just swallowed his come and it almost makes his dick twitch again with how hot that is. Fuck, if he could get it up again right now he’d bang on Zhenya’s door, or one of the rookies’ and ask for lube. There’s gotta be a few bottles of it in the building. He’s already got condoms in the bathroom. God, how tight would Crosby’s ass even be? How much practice does he get? Does he have fuck toys? 

“What are you thinking?” Crosby says, because Sasha’s eyes were probably glazing over noticeably. 

Sasha swallows to get his voice back. “How much I wish I could fuck you,” it doesn’t work, he still sounds like he just gargled asphalt. 

Crosby gives him a sympathetic frown of disappointment and fuck, that alone is enough to gt Sasha’s dick ready for round two. Except no, his body doesn’t actually work like that. Ugh. 

“Jerk off for me,” Sasha says, licking his lips, because Crosby came here to please him, right? To make up for the shittiest Olympics in the history of ever? And this, this is one last thing Sasha wants. 

Crosby gives him a conspiratory smile, which somehow just comes off as earnest, and moves to straddle Sasha’s pelvis, rubbing his hand up and down his pretty, hard cock right over Sasha’s stomach. Crosby moans and closes his eyes and his hand speeds up and he bites his already swollen lips and Sasha’s pretty sure Crosby’s putting on a show just for him and somehow that’s even better than Crosby trying to act like he’s not doing this in Sasha’s bed at the Olympic village. 

Crosby’s moans get louder and Sasha’s hands come up to his hips, dig into his skin to keep him steady and Crosby whispers “Alex,” and opens his eyes to stare straight at Sasha and fuck, Sasha’s fingers dig in hard enough to leave marks and Crosby comes, spilling all over Sasha’s skin. Sasha pulls him down into a kiss, claiming Crosby’s mouth while he’s still shuddering, still groaning from his orgasm. Crosby’s arms come up to Sasha’s shoulders, his neck, fingers caressing his forehead, combing over his hair. It’s sweet and intense and addictive and whoever Crosby learned how to do with this, Sasha doesn’t understand how they ever let this guy go. 

“Fuck, that was good,” Crosby says quietly, mouth against Sasha’s bicep. 

Sasha breathes out. Yeah, fuck, it was. “Wish we had a bigger bed,” he says. 

Crosby looks up at him, with the smile that’s all mischief and stubbornness. “Stop by Pittsburgh some time.”

Sasha snorts. “You don’t even have your own place.”

Crosby doesn’t try to argue the point. “Fine, Washington then. Invite me over some time, I might show up,” he shrugs. 

God, this is not the right time to think about this. There’s still Olympic games to play, because the universe is a terrible place and no one in his country has apparently earned any good karma ever, and then the trip back to the US and the season and making the playoffs, all of which he can’t even think about right now. But oddly… the question of whether he wants to keep fucking Sidney Crosby, whether he actually wants to find out what his ass feels like, and who he’s fucked previously, is not a difficult one to answer. God, explaining this to Zhenya is going to be awkward. 

“Yeah, I definitely have a bed big enough for that,” Sasha says, slapping Crosby’s ass lightly. 

Crosby gives him a light slap on the cheek in response, like a warning, though his eyes stay playful. And yeah, sure, Sasha can definitely be into that. 

“I need to go,” Crosby says, not moving from Sasha’s chest. 

“Yeah, I need a shower,” Sasha says, though he’d be content to stay here for another hour, gross drying come and all. 

“Yeah,” Crosby says, and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I have written so many fics where Sidney Crosby either comforts someone or is comforted by someone using sex after a loss ([Giroux!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403095), [Geno!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/835084), [PK!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/857817)) but you know, apparently there can never be enough awkward comfort sex in this fandom? 
> 
> In other news if you want to throw more prompts re: Team Russia and comfort sex into my inbox, you can [leave a comment here](http://marina.dreamwidth.org/1402426.html) or [do so on tumblr](http://pitchercries.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
